


TALK ME DOWN

by frankier_hoe



Series: The Blue Neighborhood Series [3]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ferard, Frerard, M/M, my chemical romance - Freeform, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankier_hoe/pseuds/frankier_hoe
Summary: The Blue Neighborhood Trilogy part 3/3.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diewithoutbite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diewithoutbite/gifts).



Gerard buttoned his suit coat, the fabric stiff and unnatural against his skin. The thought of seeing her, like that. Cold. He shifted his tie; it was too tight around his neck.

He ran a hand through his hair, surprised that his arms lifted with the heavy weight in his chest. It didn’t feel real to him. He felt like it should hurt differently, a stab of pain, sending him to the floor, sobbing. But it was a quiet type of hurting, a steady ache in his chest that spread all the way to his toes. An anchor, making his feet stick to the floor. 

He held his own gaze in the mirror, “you have to go.” The mirror Gerard looked unconvinced. Something inside his brain moved his feet down the hallway and to the door. Whatever it was that moved him, basic human intuition, misery, obligation, worked against his own will. He was grateful for it anyways.

He closed the door behind him, his fingers out of habit pressing the lock button on the house. The comfort of the mechanic whir, securing his house, made his stomach drop. He put in the code to the door. Out of spite, he left it open. The warm wind of the end of summer drifted into his house like a bad memory. The tie around his throat was too tight.

The walk to the cemetery was painstakingly in the direction of Frank’s house, it made his whole body ache. The cemetery was closer than Frank's house, which was for the best, because Gerard didn’t know what he would do if he saw that boatyard. The cracked paint aching to have his hands run across the wood. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He was in love with his isolation. The boatyard would be hollow, full of broken, forgotten ships and a few dusty memories. It’s what lived there that terrified him.

Gerard stepped into the cemetery; the sculpture's gazes like heavy weights on his back. A ball and chain tied to his feet. He shook his head, but couldn’t rid himself of their all knowing stares: they knew too much.

He saw the small group gathered around a grave: his mom, dad, grandma, and his Frank were all there. Along with a balding priest. Everything felt so out of place; everything felt so forced. Gerard heard the priest speaking; he was late. They hadn’t held anything up for him. It should have stung.

Gerard looked at Frank’s shoes, they looked too big for him, Gerard wondered if they were his Dad’s. He looked at the next pair of shoes, standing close to Frank’s. Heels. Grandma didn’t like heels, he looked up, intrigued, seeing first hands held together and then her face.

Good, he thought, good for Frank. He found a way to get through this. It didn’t matter. If it didn’t matter then why did it hurt so much? He shook his head and blinked hard. He couldn’t hear anyone talking but he could hear Frank. He could hear the rustle of his suit jacket as he shifted under Gerard’s gaze. He could hear the ocean crashing in the distance. The neverending buzz of insects, the priest’s voice was incomprehensible. Maybe he just wasn’t talking.

Gerard stared at the coffin, eyes fixing on the flowers adorning it. She hated flowers, she hated their stench and their bright unnatural colors. Gerard wondered if anyone but him had known her at all.

Everyone was walking away, and for a brief, horrible second it felt like they were leaving him. Foolishly, Gerard realized that he had missed the entire ceremony. He wondered if he should say something. He wondered if her corpse would care. Knowing her, she probably would.

He dropped to his knees, pressing a hand against the fresh dirt. Mumbling words he didn’t even understand himself. He talked about saints and protection and any words that evoked any sort of comfort that he could offer her when he himself had nothing to give.

“Gerard?” He looked up, he couldn’t see anything, so he blinked hard.

“Frank?” He asked, the voice easily recognizable to him. He could see Frank’s figure coming towards him; no Jamia. Gerard stood up.

“Enjoy the service?” He asked, except he didn’t ask that, he didn’t say anything. He thought about saying it but he couldn’t make the words come out. All he could do was look at Frank and listen to the rustle of his suit as he walked.

Tears ran down Frank’s face, “I’m here for you,” he said, then closing his eyes hard, he started again, “I want you, Gerard, that’s all I want.” He pulled Gerard into his arms with force that knocked Gerard’s head against Frank’s shoulder. He let out a strangled sound and pulled Frank as close to him as he could. Even though Frank’s grip wasn’t allowing his lungs to expand, Gerard felt that he could breath a little.

“Frank,” Gerard choked, gripping the suit that smelled like Frank’s house and scrunching up the fabric in his fingers. 

“I know, baby, I know,” Frank said, pulling Gerard closer until he couldn’t get him any closer.

“Frank?” A voice Gerard wished he didn’t recognize didn’t ask demanded.

“The fuck are you doing in that suit? I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what today is, I know when my suit’s been stolen for a faggot’s funeral.” Frank was being pulled away from him and Gerard felt the gears inside his body break and crack.

“Mr. Iero, please, let him stay,” Gerard managed. Frank’s dad didn’t respond, but continued holding Frank in his grip and walking away. Gerard looked helplessly at Frank, trying to say his name, but only managing whisper it to himself. Frank was talking to his dad and gesturing back towards Gerard but Gerard didn’t see it. The dull ache of walking away from Frank added to the steady throb of his chest.

Gerard walked to the edge of the cemetery, his hand hitting each metal rung of the fence. He could feel chemicals breaking down. All that he could think of was that jump off of the pier when he was twelve, the fear in his heart, the laugh of Frank when his head bobbed above water. Over and over like a broken record.

He swallowed, walking towards the beach, walking across that line. He played the memory again. He looked out at the sea, the expanse, the waiting. It reminded him of Frank’s boatyard.

He played the memory.


End file.
